Untold
by constant.stargazer
Summary: Michelle has lost a lot before but has always considered herself destined for normal. So when the headaches start and a gift has been discovered she finds herself smack in the middle of something more than she ever could have imagined. reviews appreciated
1. The Beginning

**A Diary Will Make it Easier**

My life has certainly changed in the past year. I was never aware of just how sheltered I had truly been. You think you know everything about your loved ones, but what happens when the reality you thought existed—you know? The one without monsters and things that go bump in the night. Yeah that one.—what happens when you wake up one day to find out that it doesn't exist, maybe never has? That there really are a bunch of things that should make you check in your closet and under your bed before you sleep at night. And on the rare occasion, maybe even leave a knife under your pillow while you lay in bed, I've seen it done before so don't think you'd be the first.

But the point of writing this, all of this…is to help make sense of everything that has happened. I love them, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if I could continue this life living it the way they do. So I got to thinking that if I write down all my thoughts it'll be easier to stay sane. A diary will make it easier.

It might sound bizarre, keeping a journal I mean. I doubt either Sam or Dean keeps a journal with all their deep personal feelings and experiences written inside, but who knows? Anything's possible with those two. Although, if I had to choose between them, knowing Sam I'd say he would be the more likely one to be carrying a diary hidden deep in his bag. He's more of the "diary-keeping-sensitive-pansy type" as Dean would put it. (If it was me I would have left out the pansy part.)


	2. A History

**A Diary Will Make it Easier**

My life has certainly changed in the past year. I was never aware of just how sheltered I had truly been. You think you know everything about your loved ones, but what happens when the reality you thought existed—you know? The one without monsters and things that go bump in the night. Yeah that one.—what happens when you wake up one day to find out that it doesn't exist, maybe never has? That there really are a bunch of things that should make you check in your closet and under your bed before you sleep at night. And on the rare occasion, maybe even leave a knife under your pillow while you lay in bed, I've seen it done before so don't think you'd be the first.

But the point of writing this, all of this…is to help make sense of everything that has happened. I love them, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if I could continue this life living it the way they do. So I got to thinking that if I write down all my thoughts it'll be easier to stay sane. A diary will make it easier.

It might sound bizarre, keeping a journal I mean. I doubt either Sam or Dean keeps a journal with all their deep personal feelings and experiences written inside, but who knows? Anything's possible with those two. Although, if I had to choose between them, knowing Sam I'd say he would be the more likely one to be carrying a diary hidden deep in his bag. He's more of the "diary-keeping-sensitive-pansy type" as Dean would put it. (If it was me I would have left out the pansy part.)

**Your Parent's Divorced or Something?**

**Chapter One:**

The easiest way to put it would be to say that I'm an orphan; it's usually how I introduce myself when the odd insensitive person would ask.

**"Your parents divorced or something?"**

**"No. They're dead."**

**"Yeah right, come on girls. She's obviously making it up! How could she afford to go to this school if her parents didn't pay for it? Did you get a job when you were two or something, _orphan girl_?"**

**"It's called a trust fund Hannah. I do work, but not because I _have_ to. And my name is Michelle, _not _orphan girl."**

What more could you expect when going to an all-girls boarding school? For the most part I would consider myself luckier than others when it comes to having parents on the obituary list in the newspaper. My dad was rich, and my mom was already well-off before she even met him. They were loving but smart as well. Everything they had was left to me and it was arranged that in the "event of their death" I would move in with my Godmother, otherwise known as my aunt. So there was none of that usual hopping in between abusive foster homes that you hear are happening all the time.

Dori loved me very much but was just as distraught as me when it came to my parents' deaths. She was my mother's sister and cared about both her and my dad very much. This didn't give the two of us a lot of time to connect; we handled our grief in different ways. She developed a drug habit while I locked myself in my room and wrote bad poetry. After losing my parents I chose not to watch as I lost my aunt too. I got her to sign the papers and I ended up going half way across the country to Emerald Heights Boarding School for the Elite.

Boarding schools are pretty much what you would expect from a place filled with kids whose parents are the heads of multi-million dollar corporations. It's about enough to drive the average person insane. The uniforms and classes are good enough, but school has never been my main interest. I was heading in the direction of veterinary sciences; I was invited to attend Guleph University in Canada when it began to happen.


	3. Things Would Happen

**Things Would Happen**

**Chapter Two**

What would be the easiest way to explain it? Trying to find the right words to describe important events is hard at two in the morning…what makes it harder is when you are laying on a bed (or as Dean calls it, a rock with a pillow), with the only inspiration to be had is offered from a bizarrely shaped pea-green coloured ashtray across the room.

"**Motels suck."**

I'd have to say that the worst part of all this, other than the occasional broken rib, is the living conditions—or lack there of. Most nights I'm in a crappy motel room or the back of Dean's impala. God do I miss the smell of my dorm mate's apple cinnamon perfume (it was always right beside my bed), car seats are only comfortable for so long before your butt goes numb and your neck stiff. The saddest part is that I don't even like perfume! But anything is better than the cheap, linen stench you get when you walk into a 40 a night motel room.

I used to feel bad, having Dean and Sam argue about whose turn it was to sleep on the floor. Now, I'm usually so wiped after a hunt I just jump in bed and tune them out.

I learned the hard way to stay awake until we got back to the motel. I remember falling asleep to Dean telling Sam to just leave me in the car, I was already asleep and the car was locked so that made me perfectly safe in his warped head. Luckily, Sam can think more rationally and gently carried me inside so I didn't end up spending the night all twisted in the back of the car.

That was when it happened again. It had only been the second or third time I had experienced it outside of a dream. H-How could I explain this in a way it would make sense? To be honest, I don't really get it either. But I'll try to make sense of it.

Things…would just _happen. _Call it a women's intuition or whatever, but sometimes I would just get this feeling, an _overwhelming_ feeling. At first, it only happened while I slept. I would have randomly obscure dreams (if that isn't redundant…) where I would be talking to a teacher or at a counter in a drugstore. I'd be keeping up the usual idle chatter: "How are you?" "Nice weather we are having." "Did you hear about so and so?"

I would ask a simple question such as, "Having a nice day?" and when they answered your typical Not-another-customer-please-stop-with-the-chit-chat-there-is-a-line counter girl answer, "Good and you?" I would be suddenly consumed with an almost unbearable chill. I would feel so cold; I would wake up sweating and hot from being wrapped up in my blanket so tightly.

At first I had no idea what these dreams meant, after all I was never one to read into dreams that much. Don't get me wrong, when my cousin and I would stay up late giggling and reading our horoscopes and dream dictionaries, I'd love it. That's kid stuff though. I'm almost 20.

So like I was saying, these dreams never seemed to make much sense and I would try not to let it impact me. But when it happened during the day…I began to worry. I always wanted something to be special about me, I liked using my imagination. I guess I wasn't ready for the adventure I thought I wanted. Needless to say I found out what it meant, the feelings I mean.

In Ancient History I watched on as a girl was being interrogated by her friends for answers as to what happened between her and some boy on the weekend.

"**Well, tell us! Did the two of you…you know?"**

"**Liz! That's personal!"**

"**Oh come on. We're all friends here, you can tell us. I **_**promise**_** we won't tell **_**anybody.**_**"**

And there it was again. I immediately reached for my sweater and through it over my head as fast as I could. Was a window open in here or what?! How could it have gotten that cold in mere seconds? There I was, sitting at my desk eavesdropping on some meaningless conversation when I am about to die of hypothermia all of a sudden.

That night when I was laying in my dorm bed (one that didn't have springs popping out of it) I started to think about what was happening to me. First the dreams and now this? What was I suppose to think…was all this a result of some head cold? Was the flu spreading around or something?

Then—as cliché as it sounds—it hit me.


	4. A Gift?

**A Drop in Temperature**

**Chapter Three**

The day after I was listening to that conversation in Ancient History, I heard one of the girls involved talking about the girl in question.

"**They were up all night! And you can guess what they were doing while they were awake. And it wasn't playing scrabble."**

"**Oh my god! Were they-?" **

"**Mhm. All night. She told me herself." **

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, that girl had promised her friend no more than two days ago that she would keep the details a secret. Typical high school experience, no one seems to be able to resist the allure of betraying a friend. Lying. What's the purpose of it?

I've always had a knack for being able to tell when someone is telling a lie.

…

This is pretty much when I started to make sense of it all; the dreams, what was happening to me during the day. I figured out why I was hit with sudden chills. Without even looking at them, I would know. I would feel it. Lies translated into a change in temperature.

Never hot, almost always cold. A significant drop in temperature.

Obtaining superpowers can now be scratched off my list of things to do.

**Enjoying Cruelty**

**Chapter Four**

Being different, in this way…turned out not to be as glamorous as I thought or hoped it would be.

People can tell when you know something they don't, or when there is something different about you. Maybe you start smelling different or something that would go unnoticed to yourself but plain as daylight to everyone else.

As if I wasn't already ostracised enough already, I was now beginning to get totally ignored by my classmates. And on top of that I started getting excruciating head aches—well actually that is putting it lightly. They weren't so much as excruciatingly painful as they were unbearably agonizingly painful. No over exaggerations, they were so bad I wouldn't wish them upon my worst enemy.

Well there is one I can think of.

Anyway, it was close to summer break when I got a call on my cell phone, about 4 days before final exams to be more accurate.

"**Hey, this is Michelle Tooke. Sorry I couldn't get to this phone fast enough; I'm still trying to figure out how it works. Anyway, leave me a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks."**

"**, I have news I rather not have to give over an answering machine. It is urgent however so please try and get back to us as fast as possible. It is regarding your Aunt Dorian, there has been an incident. I will leave a number where you can reach us…"**

I immediately assumed my aunt had over dosed and was either lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of machines, or cold as ice in a morgue somewhere.

While I listened to the message again as I sat on the subway train, I tried to calm myself down.

She wouldn't have died, she couldn't have. I already had two people taken away from me. This was just getting ridiculous. I never had a strong faith in God, even when my parents were alive. It was just something I wasn't interested in.

If there is a God though, he definitely enjoys being cruel.

**One New Message**

**Chapter Five**

"**Hi, I got a message from someone at this number regarding my aunt. I was wondering if I could--"**

"**Yes that's her. Has she?"**

"**Oh thank god. No, nothing. Yes, I will be there by morning, is there a point in leaving a message for her or can she not…Yeah, I understand. Thank you." **

It was around 11:39 the time that call happened.

I was told that my aunt had suffered a severe heart attack believed to have been brought on by an over dosage of painkillers and sleeping pills. A neighbour complained of a scream he heard and that's when the police where called. They found her wrapped in a shower curtain on the bedroom floor, mumbling about a man she had seen.

A man with yellow eyes.

I pretty much assumed that my aunt had just been seeing things; we only studied the effects of drug abuse briefly but hallucinations were definitely a side-effect.

But why yellow eyes?

Either way, I was a lot more relaxed knowing that she was okay. It made the plane ride back home easier. I checked my cell phone for any new calls before boarding the plane.

One new message.


	5. Yelloweyes

**A Dream So Vivid**

"**Miss, I need you to move ahead. As you can see there is a line.."**

Geeze, airport employees can be so pushy.

I half ignored the woman when she said that to me; I was busy listening to the message on my phone.

"**I'm not crazy Michelle, you know, they know that, they t-think I'm…I've been seeing things. The drugs are making me see things. No, no they aren't. I didn't make him up. I couldn't make that up…it was awful. Too look at, I mean. His voice hurt my ears. His eyes…the yellow eyes. I couldn't look, I-I fell back against the wall. I mean the cabinet. Or the bed. No, it was the cabinet. He said about the plans. Plans for you. He talked about you Michelle. He said you are special. His eyes…his eyes were yellow."**

My phone almost dropped out of my hand when I heard the last part.

What was she talking about? In fact how did she even get to a phone to call me? I thought she was supposed to be in intensive care…What was that about a man, a man that she saw (thought she saw), talked about me? Has plans for me? Thinks I'm special? Well that's great, some man—a yellow eyed man at that—has plans for me. I tried to tell myself that my aunt really was just crazy, how could this guy have been real? And how would he know me if he was real?

_Yellow eyes?_

My thought process was interrupted by a sudden throbbing in my head. I couldn't help but whimper in pain while I sat in my seat, lying against the window. I reached into my pocket for any painkillers I might have stashed but obviously none were to be found.

Damn.

I did my best to tolerate the headache-turned migraine until it passed on its own. Miraculously I fell asleep before that happened, giving me a much-needed break from everything.

* * *

"**Dreams are nice aren't they?" **

A man stood in front of me. His eyes shone with an eerie shade of yellow.

"**Who are-?"**

"**We'll get to that in a second sweet cakes."**

I remember giving him a raise of my eyebrow. But not before I was swiftly launched against a wall.

"**Ahhh,"** I hissed in pain. Believe it or not, being thrown into walls isn't fun, no matter how often it ends up happening. **"How…how did you do that?"** As I can remember, he never even came near me.

"_**So many**_** questions, you must do well in school." **

The way he talked, there was humour in his voice, amusement as well. I was frightened.

"**Your eyes."** That was all I could manage before my head starting pounding again.

Instinct told me to grab my head and curl up in a ball when my forehead started pounding, but I couldn't. My arms wouldn't move from their place at my side.

_Why was all of this so vivid, so real? Even when it was happening it didn't feel like a dream. _

"**I know, those can hurt. A downside, I will admit but I promise that the rest of the package more than makes up for it."** He smiled at me, a crooked one.

"**WH-What are you…talking about. Agh! M-my head!" **

The pain was starting to become too much.

"**You're special to me Michelle. I have **_**big**_** plans for you."** The yellow eyed man approached me and ran his fingers through my hair. I would have pulled away but my head was just like my arms, bound against the wall by a force I couldn't see.

"**P-plans?"** I gritted my teeth with the next wave of pain. I tried to stay focus on what was happening in front of me.

"**Well what kind of demon would I be if I ruined all the suspense now? Better to keep you guessing."**

I was on the verge of throwing up, the pain became so bad. It took everything I had to stay conscious, which I later thought to be bizarre considering this was a dream.

"**Wha…What? You're a demon?" **

"**It's a nasty stereotype the media gives us. How am I supposed to be taken seriously when everyone thinks I should have two red horns on the top of my head? Makes my job very hard..."** The yellow-eyed demon basked in the cleverness of his own joke, and then turned his attention back to me. **"Stay pretty." **

He patted me lightly on the cheek and then I fell down to my knees, released from whatever invisible chains were binding me.

I looked around but couldn't see where the yellow-eyed man…demon, had gone. In fact, I couldn't see anything. Everything around me seemed to be cloaked in a shadowy haze. Even the wall I had been thrown against had vanished. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the darkness and passed out.


End file.
